Bona Fides

Carson strolled over just as the class finished, standing on the outskirts of the area while Rachel Marguerie lurked behind him. They both watched with mild interest as the children packed away their pencils and Michelle Cooper fussed over the pre-war textbooks that Quinn had handed out earlier as part of their lesson on the War of Independence. Quinn had told them tales of what she remembered, from the dumping of the tea to Paul Revere's Ride. All of them had sat listening, ignoring Michelle as she had tried to drag the topic back towards the war itself.

Quinn shot Carson a look as he leaned casually against the metal railings, drumming his fingers on his folded arms. Rachel lit up a cigar, unconcerned with the scandalised tuts of Michelle as she blew streams of smoke into the air, lost in boredom.

Only when the squires had left and Michelle had bustled off, muttering that one of the textbooks had been damaged, did the two of them approach.

"Come on," Carson said cheerily, taking hold of Quinn's arm and steering her away, "let's go for a walk."

"Carson, I'm-"

"Going for a walk with me, I know." His smile widened to uncomfortable proportions as he dragged her alongside him. "You've barely spoken to anyone since you got back, and don't think I haven't noticed it. You've been avoiding Paladin Danse, too."

Quinn yanked her arm free and scowled at him. "So what if I am? He's just my sponsor."

"Just your sponsor, huh?"

"Yes."

"Liar."

An urge to poke him in his smug face surged through her, so she turned on her heel and stormed off in the opposite direction. This was not what she needed right now. There was too much on her mind.

Carson was either oblivious to her rage, or simply didn't care. He walked after her, taking a single stride for every two of her own, the smile slipping away as she threw him an ugly look.

"Why are you following me? Just...just go away."

He flinched at her venom, but then frowned. "If we're gonna do this the hard way..." He put his fingers into his mouth and gave a sharp whistle.

"What-?" Quinn began, but a second later her world spun around as a strong pair of hands swept her off her feet and dropped her over someone's shoulder, nearly knocking the wind out of her. Quinn caught a glimpse of black hair pulled back into a tight bun, and the smell of cigar smoke.

"Rachel, put me down, damn it!"

"It's for your own good," Carson said, jogging to catch up as Rachel Marguerie set off in a fast paced march. "Besides, she's a head taller than me, so I wouldn't argue with the lady."

"Put me down now!" She tried to squirm, but Rachel's arm clamped tight down on her legs, holding her in place. The woman had a grip like a vice.

"What the hell is going on here?"

The voice of Proctor Ingram was like a whip crack, but Rachel took it in her stride, turning to face the officer as Carson leapt forward and forced his hand over Quinn's mouth before she could protest any further.

"Just a bit of disciplinary action, ma'am," the knight-sergeant said without missing a beat. "I favour thinking outside of the box to the more traditional methods."

There was a pause, and Quinn could almost hear Proctor Ingram's eyes rolling in her head.

"Fine. Just get this crap out of my workshop. Now."

"Yes, ma'am!"

And they were off again, Rachel's stride bouncing her so much that Quinn could barely gather her thoughts, let alone yell out for help. Though judging by what had happened to the lancer who had talked back to Rachel the previous month, she suspected no one would challenge the knight-sergeant.

There was a blast of cold air, and suddenly Quinn was dropped to the metal deck with a bump. Not wasting a second, she jumped to her feet. "What the hell do you think you're-?"

"Zip it." Rachel towered over her, her expression firmly telling Quinn she was not about to take any shit. She grabbed Carson by the scruff of the neck and dragged him forward, almost throwing him into Quinn, before kicking the door shut behind her with a bang and leaning against it. They were on the topmost deck, the most secluded area of the ship.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Quinn snapped, not caring how she sounded. What right did they have to bring her out here like some naughty child?

"I ain't 'fucking kidding you,'" Rachel replied, her tone so fierce that Quinn shrank away a little.

She had forgotten the golden rule of the grunts: you didn't fuck with Knight-Sergeant Marguerie. All anyone had to do was look at the lancer now scraping rust off the exterior of the Prydwen to be reminded of that simple fact.

Rachel paused, dragging on her cigar, and then blew out the smoke through her nose, her eyes narrowing. "I don't have the patience for games, Quinn. You haven't spoken to any of us for about a week now. I'd like to know why."

"Isn't it enough to want a bit of damn privacy after I just buried my husband?" Quinn shot back, finding indignant confidence in the midst of her anger. "So what if I want to be alone for a while?"

"Because this isn't normal for you," Carson cut in quickly as Rachel swelled up like a bullfrog. "Last time you were having trouble, you still talked to us, even at your worst. Now it's...nothing." He fidgeted a little. "Has something happened between you and Paladin Danse?"

Quinn knew this was coming somehow, but it didn't stop the horrible twisting sensation within her. "What do you mean, Paladin Danse? He's just my-"

"Do me a favour and cut the crap," Rachel drawled, chewing on her cigar. "Because the only one who seems to believe this bullshit is you, and half the time I don't think you're even convinced by it yourself."

She gave a deep, hacking cough, and then said, "I've known Danse for a long, long time. I've never seen him act with anyone else the way he does around you." Rachel locked eyes with Quinn. "And since I'm blessed with the gift of being a woman, I have a pretty good idea that the feeling is mutual."

Carson nodded and began to lean on the railings, but then looked over the side and quickly changed his mind. Rachel glanced at him and gave a dry laugh as his cheeks reddened slightly.

He rubbed the back of his head and said, "Talk to us, Quinn. Has something bad happened?"

"No." Nothing out of the ordinary, anyway. Nothing that they didn't already know.

Carson suddenly looked deeply uncomfortable. "I can't believe I'm asking this, but…" He threw the knight-sergeant a nervous look. "Has Paladin Danse ever tried anything he shouldn't have?"

Quinn's mouth fell open as Rachel dropped her cigar. The two women looked at each other and then rounded on him.

"What? No! Jesus Christ!" said Quinn.

"Carson, you idiot," Rachel added in a cutting tone, bending down and picking up her smoke. "Does he look like the kind of man to-?"

"Well then if he hasn't done anything to piss you off," Carson said loudly over both of them, "then why are you acting like he has?"

His comment felt like a punch to her gut; Quinn took a step back, wincing. Was that what it came across like? Is that what they all thought of her? Is that what Danse thought of himself? An image of the funeral came to mind, the effort he had put into it...and this was how she had repaid him.

With a groan, Quinn slowly sank to the floor. "For fuck's sake, Carson, I'm married. Nate's not even been dead a year and I'm already…" She shook her head. "I can't do this. It's better for everyone if I just stay away from Danse."

Carson sat down next to her and put his arm around her. "So you do have feelings for him then?"

"Yes, of course I do," Quinn snapped, burying her face in her hands at the admission.

Rachel gave a small snort of laughter. "I knew it."

"And I'm well aware the feeling is mutual," Quinn went on, ignoring the knight-sergeant. "He's as subtle as a fucking brick. But every time I'm near him all I feel is guilty because of Nate, and...and what do I do?"

Carson gave her a little squeeze. "You said Danse has never tried anything, right?"

Quinn gave a small nod.

"Then you do nothing."

She glanced at him, frowning. "What kind of solution is that?"

"The most practical one," said Rachel with a shrug. "If there's one thing everyone—" She shot Carson a sharp look, "—knows about Danse, it's that he's the epitome of professional. I can't see him doing anything unless he was certain you wanted him to, and even then he might not."

"I agree," Carson said.

Quinn looked at him, frowning. "If you agree he's professional, then why did you suggest otherwise in the first place?"

He shrugged. "In case I was wrong."

Quinn smiled and leaned against him, giving his arm a squeeze. "You're a good friend."

"Yeah, I'm pretty fantastic."

She laughed, and Carson grinned.

Rachel rolled her eyes, but smiled all the same. "You've got a boyfriend, Carson. Break it up." She smirked as Carson went scarlet, and then turned back to Quinn. "But like I was saying, he won't do anything you don't want him to. You can't help how you feel about a person, but you can control how you respond to it. If you think it's too soon to be moving on, then carry on as normal."

"It's better than cutting someone you're close to out of your life, at any rate," Carson added gently.

"But Nate…" Quinn mumbled.

"Wouldn't want you to cling to the past rather than living," Rachel interrupted. "If you had died and he hadn't, would you want him to spend the rest of his years miserable and not trying to move on?"

She shook her head.

"Then there's your answer."

Quinn didn't respond. No matter how Carson and Rachel tried to dress it up, it wasn't as simple as that. She couldn't make her guilt go just by wishing it. If it had been that easy, she'd have done away with it months ago. And then there was another problem that had nothing to do with her feelings for Danse.

Just before she had left Sanctuary, she had approached Sturges and asked him for a copy of the Institute data. She wasn't sure why she had asked him; she just knew that she had to do it. It had been burning a hole in her pocket ever since. The walk back across the wasteland had been a one-sided conversation on Danse's part, an effort that he had not kept up for long, leaving the rest of the journey in awkward silence.

No, it wasn't just the guilt over Nate. It was the guilt of what she had been hiding from Danse for months. He would have wanted to know about that data, would have wanted her to at least tell him about it, even if she refused to hand it over. Now she had it, and every interaction with him risked her blurting out the truth, if only to quell the gnawing sensation in her stomach.

Better to just block him out completely.

But now, sat here with Carson and Rachel, Quinn wondered if that had really been the right choice. She didn't feel any better for it. If anything, her isolation had made her feel worse.

I was supposed to be changing my behaviour, not enabling it.

The sharp jolt of shame seared through Quinn, cutting her line of thought dead, and she doubled over, feeling nauseous. She stood up, staggering slightly, and walked over to the railings, leaning heavily on them. Carson got to his feet and took hold of her uniform, tugging her back and pulling her into a hug. Quinn half-heartedly held onto him. It wasn't the same as Danse.

Patting her between the shoulder blades, Carson said, "Feel any better?"

"No," Quinn replied honestly, laying her head against him.

"Oh."

"But I know what I need to do now."

"Well that's something at least, if a bit vague. But I'll take it."

Quinn laughed and pulled away from him, smiling. Then her smile dropped. "I have to go talk to him, don't I?"

"Yep," said Rachel, stubbing out her cigar on the railings and flicking it over the side.

Sighing, Quinn glanced back towards the door leading into the ship. "Can't I just stay out here forever?"

"If you want to die from the cold, maybe," Carson replied, shivering. "But if you're stuck for how to start the conversation, then I have an idea."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "This ought to be good."

Knock knock

Danse groaned, opening his eyes and seeing only darkness. There was something warm and heavy pressing against his face.

"Come in," he said. The words came out muffled and he frowned, feeling the same something stick to his cheeks and forehead. Raising a hand, he groped at his head and felt his fingers touch a hard, flat object.

Oh, right. The book.

Yawing, Danse sat up, pulling the book off his face and blinking as the dim light in his room hurt his eyes. Staring blearily at the hardback in his hand, he picked up a piece of paper and marked his place, before closing it and yawning again.

Knock knock.

"I said come in," he replied, aware of the hard note in his tone. Cutler had called it his "pissy morning voice." Danse had called it, "coffee first."

The door swung open and Quinn stepped in, holding a stack of papers in her arms. Danse felt a slight jolt in his chest, but forced his face to stay blank. There was an edge of resentment that he couldn't deny, and he felt no urge to show any warmth toward her right now.

Quinn looked guilty now, watching him sitting on his bed, scratching his head.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said quickly, "I didn't realise you were asleep. I'll come back later."

"No, it's fine. I just dozed off." Resisting another yawn, he slowly got to his feet and stretched his limbs. When he looked over at Quinn again, she was staring intently at him. Danse frowned, uneasy. "What?"

"Uh, I...I just…" Her cheeks flushed slightly pink. "I've never seen you without your hood on before."

A few seconds passed before he realised what she was talking about, and Danse absent-mindedly ran a hand through his thick, dark hair. "It was getting in the way of reading." He glanced around and mumbled to himself, "Where did I put it?"

"You look good without it," Quinn said, and then paused, her face now burning bright red as she stammered, "Those hoods aren't exactly flattering. I mean-"

"What do you have there?" he asked, quickly changing the subject as his own cheeks grew hot. Why did she have to be so damn confusing? One minute she was treating him like he had the plague, and the next-

His thoughts were cut short as Quinn forcefully slammed him with an armful of reports, almost knocking him over as she blabbered away.

"Just paperwork!" A few slipped off the top of the stack and fell to the floor. "While you were away from the Prydwen, some work piled up and, well…" Quinn crouched down, quickly scooping up the wayward papers and shoving them onto the stack so hard they nearly fell off again.

Danse turned and tottered towards his desk, dropping the reports down with a loud thud. Giving her an inquisitive look, he shook his head and leaned against the table, folding his arms. His concern had turned into annoyance as they had made their way back across the wasteland, and the irritation had increased tenfold since they'd been on the Prydwen. He could tolerate many things, but being deliberately ignored for no apparent reason was not one of them.

"Quinn, I'm not stupid," he said, letting a glare settle onto his face. "You've barely said two words to me since Sanctuary, and now you just show up out of the blue with a month's worth of work? I can understand if you've taken issue with something I've done, but what I don't appreciate is you being unable to have an adult discussion about it."

Quinn seemed to go to the edge of red, her skin taking on a blotchy scarlet hue as she hid her face in her hands.

"You didn't do anything wrong. And it's not just you I've been avoiding. It's…" She dropped her arms and fixed her eyes to the floor. "When I went to the Institute, I...well...Sturges...he gave me a device."

And it all came out.

He stood and listened as Quinn told him of the data she had taken from the Institute. How she had given it back to Sturges; how she hadn't bothered to tell him about it, because she hadn't wanted to hurt Shaun.

Danse wasn't surprised.

Angry, yes.

But surprised? No, not surprised at this. How could he be surprised at a further display of her blatant disregard towards the Brotherhood? How could he be surprised that she would hide information that could be detrimental towards the war effort for her own personal purposes?

"I don't understand why you're telling me this," he said as she paused to draw breath. His voice was cold and sharp, a harshness that matched his scowl. "It's obvious to me you made your decision long ago."

Quinn shivered at his words; then her face hardened and she finally met his eye as she said, "Don't be so quick to dismiss me, tin can."

Hancock's favourite nickname grated on him, its irritating quality intensified by the simple fact it was coming from her lips. But then all annoyance left him as Quinn dug her hand into her pocket and produced a small device, grey and battered.

Danse blinked. "Is that…?"

Quinn nodded, looking pale. "The day after the funeral, I asked Sturges for a copy." Her fingers closed around the device, sealing it away from view. "I'm potentially holding the power to destroy the Institute...destroy my son. And I don't know what to do with it."

This was...strange. Quinn, torn between blood and Brotherhood? She was a different woman to the one who had returned to Sanctuary, screaming, vowing never to hurt her own. Not only had she made a copy of the one thing that could harm her child, but she was telling him about it.

Danse had once pictured this moment in his head, after he had stalked off on his own when Quinn had declared she wouldn't be going back with him to the Prydwen. In that imaginary scenario, she had meekly accepted he was right, and he had pushed her towards the path he wanted, the correct path.

Now, faced with the potential reality of this daydream, his words caught in his throat.

"I can't tell you what to do," he said quietly. "I can't force you to make that decision."

Quinn clutched at her hair, taking a deep breath. "I've had time on my hands. Time to get better, and time to really think about the Commonwealth. Father is...Shaun is a monster. He kills people and toys with their lives, both human and synth. I don't know if I can stop him myself. But I can hand over the tools to someone else."

"Why have you changed your mind?"

"Being here alone," Quinn replied with a shrug as she let her arms drop to her sides. "I've made my own friends and my own judgements. I've had the opportunity to see that while there is an edge of...over-enthusiasm in the Brotherhood, at least you all still try. And not everyone hates synths and ghouls. There are good people here, people who really want to help others, and unlike the Minutemen, you...we have the resources to make it possible."

It took a moment for her words to sink in.

We.

She had just said we.

An odd feeling came over Danse, hot and prickling in the base of his stomach as chills swept over his skin. He licked his lips and tried to speak several times before managing, "You really mean that?"

Quinn gave a firm nod. "I've not always agreed with the Brotherhood, and there are still some things I don't like, but it's like anything really; you're never going to approve of all of a group's actions completely. But what you tried to tell me back at Sanctuary, I finally get it now. This place and these people...they're family. Carson, you, Kapraski, Casey, and even Rachel...I think you'd die for me if we were in a tight spot. And I think I'd do the same for you."

"If you give that data to Elder Maxson, there's no going back."

She nodded. "I know. But I trust the Brotherhood to get the job done. Shaun needs to be stopped, and I can't do it myself. I need your help." Her eyes turned towards the floor. "I'm scared."

Danse sighed and moved towards her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Whatever you need, you know we can provide. We'll take the necessary steps to achieve that goal. I'll see to it myself if I have to."

With a smile, Quinn nodded, placing her own hand on top of his, squeezing his fingers. An electric shock ran through him, and he shivered, his grip tightening on her for the briefest of seconds.

In that moment, he knew things would be fine between them again. Danse wasn't entirely sure why he was so certain of this. Maybe it was the way she was looking at him. Maybe it was because she had approached him first. Or just maybe because he wanted things to go back to the way they were. The icy distance between them had been hard to endure.

Quinn looked as if she wanted to say something else, her hand fidgeting on top of his as her eyes flicked from the floor and back to him. Then she looked at the book in his hand, and Danse sensed she'd lost her nerve.

"What's that?"

She was changing the subject. He decided to indulge her, pulling his hand free from hers with little resistance, before holding up the book for her to see, watching as she silently mouthed, "The Tales of King Arthur."

"I've had this for some time," he said, flicking through the worn pages. "It's a favourite. One of the first challenging books I ever read."

"Challenging how?" Quinn asked, pulling a confused face. "Old myths never really struck me as hard to read."

"They are when the translated text is kept as close to the original as possible." Danse opened the book at the page he had marked with paper, cleared his throat, and then read aloud, "For madam, I love not to be constrained to love; for love must arise of the heart, and not by no constraint."

When Danse glanced up at Quinn, he had to bite back his laughter at her screwed up expression as her brain waded through what he'd just told her. He waited patiently, grinning, knowing she would have to admit defeat.

Quinn, however, didn't say anything for a while, simply staring at the book. Then she said, "You've never struck me as particularly bookish. Where did you learn all of this?"

Danse shrugged. "I told you I used to read."

"Yeah, but you said you read because it was something to do. This is...different. You seem passionate about this one, enough to actually sit down and make sense of the text. Why?"

"Well…" He looked down at the book, and images of Arthur Maxson flashed to mind.

"Have you read it yet?"

Danse was suddenly uncomfortable. He'd had the book for a few days, and he'd tried his best, but it was so damn… "No, not yet."

"Oh." Arthur looked crestfallen. "Well, okay then." He walked away, kicking at a stone on the floor, while Danse stared after him, feeling guilty.

"I'll read it tonight," Danse said suddenly, ignoring the frown Cutler was giving him.

"Okay," replied Arthur, not bothering to turn around as he walked away.

Yes, that memory was as clear as day. Danse still felt discomfort over the exchange.

Arthur Maxson may not have believed him at the time, but Danse had meant it. As soon as he had been off duty, he had retreated to his dorm, retrieved the book, and sat down with it. After battering his head with the archaic prose for a few hours, however, Danse had realised he would need help, and requested a dictionary from one of the scribes. Thankfully, it had been Field-Scribe Cooper who had handed it over, a little bit bemused, but with no questions asked. Then Danse had returned to his bunk and resumed the onslaught, pouring over it well into the night.

And the next night.

And the next.

A week later, he had sat down with Arthur and asked him what he had thought of the demise of Elaine of Astolat. The look on the boy's face had been priceless, worth more than the headache the reading had caused Danse.

And so they had talked. And as they had talked, Danse found something strange happening.

He was enjoying the discussion.

"Danse?"

Quinn was looking at him, slightly puzzled.

"Sorry," Danse said quickly. He glanced down at the book again and then back to Quinn, unsure whether he wanted to share such a treasured memory. Only Cutler had ever known the story about the book, and that had been because he was with Danse when he had received it. But the curious look on Quinn's face was so endearing, he suddenly found he wanted to tell her.

"Elder Maxson gave me it when I first knew him, about ten years ago, as a thank you for all the books I salvaged from the wasteland for him. He was always a fan of Arthurian myth, and he thought I might like it too."

Quinn grinned a little. "I would never have thought Elder Maxson liked King Arthur."

Danse shrugged, remembering Elder Maxson's boyish face gleaming with mischief as he had pressed the book into his arms, all those years ago.

"So, what does it mean then?" she asked suddenly.

"What?"

"That passage that you read to me before. What does it mean?"

To Danse's surprise, she looked genuinely interested. Slightly flustered by this, Danse glanced back down at the page and reread it to remind himself of the text.

"This, uh, it is," Danse said, fumbling his words a little before finding his voice. "It's a conversation between Guinevere and Lancelot. Do you know who they are?"

"Guinevere was King Arthur's wife, and Lancelot was his most trusted knight." Quinn paused and frowned. "I think. I never really took to myths and legends."

"No, you're right," Danse replied, smiling. "In this section, Guinevere accused Lancelot of causing the death of another woman by breaking her heart, because he didn't love her back. The passage I read was Sir Lancelot's response to the accusation."

Quinn rolled her eyes at him, but she was grinning. "Danse, that isn't telling me what it means."

"Sorry." Danse felt his cheeks flush. "He's confirming his love for her, by telling her his devotion and his love is not something he can control. It's this lack of choice in his feelings - and hers - that caused their affair, and through that, the eventual destruction of Arthur's kingdom."

He had often argued the point with Elder Maxson that Guinevere and Lancelot's actions had been stupid and selfish, putting their own feelings before their duty and their king. Oddly enough, Elder Maxson had a more sympathetic view of them - yes, they were wrong in what they had done, but they were only human after all.

It was one of the few topics that they had never agreed upon.

Quinn seemed to mull this over in her head. "It seems to me like they were being extremely selfish."

"Exactly-" Danse began, but then Quinn went on.

"But...well. Love makes us do stupid things. I think I know that more than anyone."

The conversation had taken a sudden, serious turn, her mind clearly on things other than the book in his hands. He shut it with a snap, and she jumped, pulling her hand out from her pocket, the grey device clutched between her fingers.

Danse cleared his throat, his eyes fixed on the small, battered piece of plastic. "So...the data."

"Yeah." Quinn started fidgeting again. "I can't tell Elder Maxson everything. Not if I want to stay in the Brotherhood. But I suppose I could...bend the truth?"

"Better than lying to him directly," Danse said, nodding. He wasn't happy with the idea of not being completely honest with Elder Maxson, but a half truth was better than an outright lie. "I'll come with you."

Quinn's face lit up at once. "You will?"

"Yes. I'm your sponsor, so you are my responsibility. And…" He gave a small shrug. "I'm your friend. This isn't something you should do alone."

She beamed at him, and he felt a slight warmth in his chest. Laying his book down on his desk, he headed towards the door.

"Let's just hope he's in a good mood."

Elder Maxson was not in a good mood.

"You had information about the Institute and thought it beneath you to inform me?"

For a twenty year old with an unkempt beard, Quinn had to admit Maxson had a gift for being menacing in a restrained sort of way, like he had the will and capacity to do a great deal of damage, but simply felt it not worth the effort. He glared at her, the device she had just given him clutched tightly in his hand. His sharp eyes trailed from her to Danse, and the scowl deepened.

"Paladin, did you know about this?"

Danse opened his mouth to answer, but Quinn quickly cut across him.

"No, he-"

"My question was directed to Paladin Danse, not you, Knight."

Quinn shut up, and Maxson turned back to Danse.

"I ask again," he said. "Did you know about this?"

Danse glanced at Quinn and then sighed. "No, sir. I was only told about this just before we came to see you."

"So you persuaded her to hand it over?"

"No, sir." Danse repeated, shaking his head. "She informed me of the data's existence, and then came to the conclusion on her own that the information should go to you. I had no part in the process."

Maxson considered this, looking down at the device in his palm before closing his fingers around it again. "I see." He turned to Quinn. "How did you obtain this data?"

Quinn met his eye. "I went there in person."

Maxson said nothing. She took this as an invitation to continue.

"As you know, my husband was murdered by the Institute, and my son stolen by them." She hated how matter-of-fact her voice sounded, but at this point, she felt too numb to the whole incident to feed any emotion into it. "Before I joined the Brotherhood, I had help from the Minutemen to build a teleporter to the Institute, which - without getting into the complicated science behind it that I barely understand myself - was attuned to me, and only me. A one-way ride into the facility. It was completed after I joined the Brotherhood, but I decided not to share that information because my sole priority was finding my son. I felt that if I told you beforehand, the Institute could become a warzone, and I didn't want to risk his life. As it turns out, he's…"

"Knight-Captain Cade informed me of the reasons why you were removed from duty," Maxson said, nodding. "But I wasn't aware of how you found out about your son. This explains a great deal."

To Quinn's great relief, he didn't ask Danse if he had known about the teleporter as well. Perhaps he thought the paladin wouldn't have kept such a great secret from him. In any other situation, he might have been right.

However, he did have questions for her.

"Knight, you know that we wanted to find our way inside the facility. Why didn't you inform me of your access or of the data you had obtained after the event?"

Quinn sighed. "I'm sorry, sir. I wasn't in the right frame of mind for either. As you've already mentioned, Knight-Captain Cade removed me from duty because of my mental state at the time. I wasn't thinking straight back then." She gave a small shrug. "I am now. I want to bring down those bastards who destroyed my family, but I can't do it on my own. Too much shit in my head to go after them myself...sir."

Danse glared at her, but Maxson seemed amused by her swearing. Some of the annoyance had left his rugged features, at least. He pocketed the device and said, "While I would have preferred this came to us straight away, you delivered it in the end. That is what matters. I assume the teleporter still works?"

"Yes. The Institute don't view me as a threat, but...well. More of a curiosity, I think. They know I came from a vault, which was why they took my son in the first place. I think they're studying me."

The lie was easy, but it was the only way she could explain her continued access without implicating herself with Shaun. That truth was not for Maxson.

He straightened up, giving her a look that felt as if he was chipping right into her core, trying to decide whether he believed her or not. Then his next utterance made Quinn realise that Elder Maxson was a lot more informed that she could have ever given him credit for.

"As it stands, I already knew about the data and your trip to the facility."

Quinn blinked, stunned. "Sir?"

Maxson nodded. "The Brotherhood is not an entity that operates in the dark. I received intelligence recently that informed me of everything you had just told me, minus the reasons for your silence. I had been planning to take you aside and discuss why you had chosen not to share such valuable information with me. The...interview would have been in a less welcoming environment."

His words made her shiver, and she felt like somehow, by being honest, she had just dodged one hell of a bullet.

"I'm quite disappointed you chose to build the Signal Interceptor without the Brotherhood, Knight," Maxson continued. But then his scowl softened considerably. "However, I'm not an unreasonable man. Your motives, while not rational, came at an irrational time in your life, and because of that I deem them acceptable. That aside, you've secured passage to and from the Institute's facility, which was one of our primary goals, so I'm willing to overlook your lapse in judgement."

Quinn let out a whooshing sigh of relief, which sparked a twitch in Maxson's lips. If she didn't know better, she would have thought he was holding back a smile. Quinn gave him a grateful smile of her own and said, "Thank you, sir, for being so understanding."

Maxson nodded again. "Since you've unexpectedly accelerated our plans, I now have two missions for you to complete." He took the device out of his pocket and held it out to her. "First and foremost, I want you to take this to Proctor Ingram right away. There could be data vital to the success of our mission on that tape, so we can't afford to take any chances."

Quinn took the device back. It felt warm in her hands.

"The second part of your mission requires a bit of background to explain."

He then went on to tell her about Doctor Li, a noted mind in the field of nuclear engineering, who had been instrumental in the Brotherhood's success against the Enclave, ten years ago. Quinn listened as the tale unfolded, how Li had disagreed with the continued Brotherhood presence in the Capital Wasteland and left of her own accord, travelling into the Commonwealth in self-imposed exile. The suspicion was that she had gone to make contact with the Institute.

"Your mission is simple," said Maxson. "Once you're inside the Institute, we want you to track down Doctor Li's whereabouts. If you find out she's still alive, make contact with her and convince her to return to the Brotherhood of Steel. There's a special project we're working on, and it needs her attention."

"I...I have to go back into the Institute?" Quinn whispered, her insides freezing up.

"Yes, Knight," Maxson replied, frowning at her. "You have access that the rest of us do not. I would be a fool not to take advantage of that."

"But…" Her breathing became heavy, her heart racing as she swayed on the spot. Shaun. She would have to face Shaun. "Sir, I can't. I can't go back in there. Not where I found…" She trailed off, feeling too sick to continue.

"Sir," Danse said quickly, filling her silence. "Do you think she is ready for such a venture?"

Maxson's frown deepened as he observed Quinn. "I believe you have to be ready, Knight. I understand you suffered, and continue to suffer, great distress at their hands, but no one else can take your place. If there was another option, I would use it, but there isn't. The Institute have decided to make you their lab rat, and I intend to exploit their oversight. If you want revenge-"

"I don't want revenge," Quinn interrupted, in that moment not giving a damn about his rank. "I just want it to all stop. I don't want them doing it to anyone else."

With a look of approval, Maxson said, "Good. Revenge can be poisonous to the mind, and I wouldn't recommend it to anyone. But if you want them to stop, then you have to put aside your discomfort and go back."

She knew he was speaking sense, but the logic burned more than anything else. It reminded her of Shaun and his cold outlook on the world. Squeezing her eyes shut, Quinn took a deep breath, and then nodded. Before Maxson could speak, however, she said, "What's the project that needs Doctor Li's attention?"

When she opened her eyes again, Maxson was wearing a torn expression, as if deciding whether or not to answer her question.

Eventually, he said, "Doctor Li previously worked on a potent weapon for the Brotherhood of Steel. We'd like her to continue where she left off. That's all I can tell you. While I commend you for being honest today, I still hold some reservations, which I'm sure you can understand. That, and I have no intention of sending you behind enemy lines with such a valuable piece of intelligence. It would put all our plans at risk, and potentially put you at risk of torture."

Danse's head jerked in Maxson's direction at this last utterance, but Maxson seemed not to notice.

"Just keep your mind on the mission and don't let anything they say sway you from your duty," he went on, and then saluted her. "Good luck, Knight."

Vaguely remembering to salute back, Quinn ambled out of the room, Danse watching her closely as she almost staggered towards the ladders that led to the lower decks. Somehow, she made it down without falling, and then leaned against a nearby wall, breathing heavily through her nose.

"Quinn," Danse said in a low voice, his face pale.

She shook her head. "There's nothing to say. I have to go back. I have to face him."

"I can go with you-"

"No, you can't." Her heart was hammering in her chest at the idea of doing it alone, but they both knew there were no other alternatives. "We just had this discussion. The teleporter only works for me. You have to stay behind."

"Quinn," he said again, his voice sounding strangled now.

"I'll be careful. I'll find Li and hopefully avoid Shaun. And if not...I'll just have to talk my way around him." Then without thinking, without caring that the surrounding walkways were full of soldiers and scribes, Quinn reached out and squeezed his hand. "I'm not going to hang around in that place. Straight in and out. I have every intention of returning."

Danse squeezed her fingers back, and then looked over his shoulder and quickly let go. "Alright. Stay safe, soldier."

Part of her wanted to ask him what the project was. She was almost certain that Danse would be in the loop for such a thing, regarded as highly as he was by Maxson. But she respected him too much to force him into such an awkward position.

Quinn smiled. "I will. I promise."

A/N: Thank you to waiting4morning for their invaluable beta help. Especially since they were busy this weekend and went out of their way to help me. And thanks for all the reviews and PMs, too! I also have a couple of people who asked if they could do fanart. The answer is always YES. I'll link it on my profile whenever I get some so you guys can see it too!